tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8147420558740864962024-02-19T13:43:48.708-08:00Shortcut to MushroomsAnnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.comBlogger237125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-6394277602785465432013-08-30T03:53:00.001-07:002013-08-30T03:53:08.053-07:00UpdateHey, been working on putting this into Wordpress for a while now and actually have a few posts on the new Wordpress address, just still tweaking stuff. Sorry for the Loooooooooong absence. <br /><br />New Wordpress sight is annahatke.wordpress.com! <br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Up&z=10'>Up</a></p>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-67331955229074738212013-04-10T05:44:00.001-07:002013-04-10T05:44:50.177-07:00Homeschooling sex Ed<br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/04/10/517.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/04/10/s_517.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/04/10/518.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/04/10/s_518.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Supplies: 16 toads, eight kids, one afternoon in spring. <br />Lecturing: none<br />Results: a necklace of toad eggs in a bucket, kids know where babies come from (at least tadpoles)<br />Cost: free<br /><br /><br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-84952485770315482342013-04-09T18:57:00.001-07:002013-04-09T18:57:24.228-07:00Good Friday Sourdough tutorial Wrote lots of this post on Good Friday and am finally finishing it now! <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/04/09/2339.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/04/09/s_2339.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />So I always bake on Fridays. So much Catholic theology is wrapped up in bread. It is always a great mystery to me how you get this amazing colony of life giving yeasts going in your dough and then throw it in the oven and kill them all, and yet it comes out of its little tomb, risen and turned into this amazing thing to eat. . . <br /><br />Also it is nice to have lots of bread for the weekend. But on to baking instructions. . <br /><br />Okay, before you begin I would advise that you either get starter from another friend or order it. I have never had success with starter I have made myself. I think this is mostly because I am a horribly impatient person and I have heard it can take almost a month to fully develop a bake worthy starter. <br /><br /> I am far to sanguine for such endeavors and have three friends who bake with sourdough so I just asked for some (incidentally once you develop this passion you automatically have to make sourdough friends so they can babysit your starter if you are gone longer than a few weeks, or even give you some if you accidentally kill yours by baking it all----I've done both). <br /><br />The more people making sourdough the less chance there is you will be without. (Kelly I could even mail you some in a pinch or send it with Ryan next time he visits you if that is feasible.)<br /><br /><br />Right. . . <br />Anyway on Thursday morning I take my sourdough out of the fridge. Keep it in a small mason jar. I put it in a glass bowl(pottery and wood are fine too, just no metal bowls please. ). <br />Then I add one cup white flour<br />One cup water. <br /><br />You want it to air on the very wet side. This is not a firm dough, just a sort of extra boost to your starter. <br />stir. And let sit eight to twelve hours. ( this is flexible and can often vary in readiness according to the time of year and also your schedule. ) <br /><br />Now you have a sponge! When it is ready it will be sorta bubbly and puffy. If it smells alcoholic it has sat too long, It will probably still be okay and if there is a little watery stuff, you can mix this stuff back in or throw it out, your choice. <br /><br /> Once you get used to sourdough, you can tell the right smell. (Think about wine and vinegar. Both are fermented, but one is a little too acidic.)<br /><br />Okay then BEFORE you mix your bread dough, put about 1/3 cup of starter back in your jar and feed it about 1/3 cup water and flour, stir and put the cap on and put it back in the fridge for next time. <br /><br />then add about one cup or so of your sponge with six to seven cups of flour three cups of water and about two and a half teaspoons of salt. <br /><br />If it is way too soggy add more flour. if stiff and dry moisten with water. it should be lumpy and air o the softer side. <br /><br />Put in a bowl and let rise overnight or about eight to fifteen hours. This is very flexible. if you like a really sour sourdough let it go on the longer side. <br /><br />When it is done rising gently deflate dough and form into two round balls on tea towels dusted generously with flour and dust the loaf on top. be careful not to handle it too much at this stage. Put the loaf seam side up because you will be flipping it out of this towel into your pan later. Cover and let rise for one to two hours. <br /><br />While rising preheat oven to 475 and place a cast iron Dutch oven in the oven. Let the pot heat up for at least half an hour and then take it out of the oven and carefully turn your loaf into the pan from the tea towel so that it is ow seam side down. Place lid on pot and put it back in the oven. Let it bake for 25-35 minutes for a medium size loaf. CHeck it and make sure it is nice and brown. <br /><br />take out of oven and out of pot and let sit for 20 minutes before slicing into it.<br /><br />Enjoy! <br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-72275402694108249472013-03-27T19:15:00.001-07:002013-03-27T19:15:01.806-07:00Just a big love letter to my sourdough starter! <br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/03/27/2774.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/03/27/s_2774.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />There is a lot of press these days on why bread and wheat are so bad for you and in particular we are seeing a huge rise in gluten intolerance and grain allergies. When I witnessed this, even with one of my own children I was confused, after all mankind has been making bread for thousands of years! How could we all of a sudden lose our tolerance for it? <br /><br />Been reading and thinking on this a lot lately. It looks like much of this has to do with how we have changed our methods of making bread. Traditionally bread was made from a fermented starter and fermented for a long time. Bread cooked in this method with a long slow fermentation of a wild yeast is actually way gentler on the digestive system, has nutrients more readily available and also even has anti fungal properties that are healthful for building good gut flora. Did I mention it also has an incredibly delicious flavor? <br />I've been using my starter for a good couple of years now regularly. I bake between one to four loaves of bread a week for my family depending on our consumption and my time in the kitchen. It requires minimal time to mix it and proof it and all the times are flexible, so it fits hectic family life way better than conventional bread baking and it's precise rising times. <br />I also love the rhythmic feel that sourdough gives to my life. As a child I always preferred sourdough and now as an adult I am so happy to finally make this nourishing food and share it with my children. <br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-69723810529748078742013-03-16T11:02:00.001-07:002013-03-16T11:02:13.379-07:00March photos<br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/03/16/1541.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/03/16/s_1541.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/03/16/1542.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/03/16/s_1542.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/03/16/1543.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/03/16/s_1543.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/03/16/1544.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/03/16/s_1544.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/03/16/1545.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/03/16/s_1545.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-39971728941845786072013-02-02T18:34:00.001-08:002013-02-02T18:55:19.888-08:00Happy Candlemas!Here is a photo of our neighbor bottle feeding two baby lambs in a Santa hat no less. <br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/02/02/2313.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/02/02/s_2313.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Today marks the last day in the old calendar Christmas season so technically it is still the season to be jolly. . .<br /> Today my parents flew back home. Ben came home a couple of days ago full of stories of his adventures in the lone star state. The girls really started to miss after a week and Ronia would clutch the phone when he would call and get this mournful far away look in her eyes as if she desperately wanted to believe that he was still alive. It was really sad. however Ben's homecoming was sweet to see. The first morning he was back all four girls piled into bed to snuggle with him, all talking at once. <br /><br />He is a lucky man. <br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-84873628293293718772013-01-21T04:46:00.001-08:002013-01-21T04:46:54.440-08:00Off to TexasMr Popularity is off to Texas and my only consolation is that my Mom and Dad are coming to stay with us in his absence. Here he is enjoying his last morning coffee with Angelica giving a running dialogue on duck feathers and oil. How will he manage without these peaceful domestic routines?<br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/01/21/684.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/01/21/s_684.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-68429839626312464482013-01-19T14:28:00.001-08:002013-01-19T14:28:18.703-08:00Nothing happier. . . . . . Then toddlers with bread dough. <br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/01/19/2033.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/01/19/s_2033.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-15982962908281678602013-01-16T04:57:00.001-08:002013-01-16T04:59:12.827-08:00cats in Bethlehem<br />I took down our tree on Sunday. Angelica as always mourned its passing. This year we were gone for part of Christmas visiting relatives and when we returned the girls still really wanted a tree. There was of course no place left to buy one so we walked down the railroad tracks and cut down a scrubby Virginia cedar. Ben and I decorated one of these the first year we were married so it brought back memories. <br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/01/16/362.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/01/16/s_362.jpg' border='0' width='267' height='267' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />This year I kept the manger scene and the lights up. Our parish priest aked us to do this until Candlemas, February the second. Out cultural attention spans are so short. Inside me the desire to have all the decorations put away rebels. But perhaps this is a reminder to me that unlike all the tinselly cheer amidst box store stampedes, our celebration is more than just party decorations and stuffing ourselves with panettone and candy and goose. <br />I could learn a thing or two from our cat. She still sleeps in the manger scene every morning, happy to be with her Creator who is a baby. Just as he did two thousand years ago Baby Jesus chooses to be with the animals. He knows that they won't tire of adoration. <br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br /><br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-62089213638995490132013-01-15T05:53:00.001-08:002013-01-15T05:53:21.107-08:00The pause in the day. . . This the view out my kitchen window. While it is one of the best windows in our house it is unfortunately blocked by counter space and a filled in chimney so it is not easy to sit by and enjoy. However the brief glimpses that I am afforded when I turn to put dishes on the drainer after washing them always uplift my heart. <br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/01/15/605.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/01/15/s_605.jpg' border='0' width='267' height='267' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />To get through the winter months we really need to find those little places of beauty and light because they are a precious commodity.<br /><br /> I also find that just because this is not a Latin country does not mean that my day does not need some kind of siesta to break it up. I find this difficult to do at lunch because of the demands of the children, the table work and the housework, especially in the winter when the days are so short. The time for it seems to fall between a little before three to a little after four. That is my window. On the best days I prep something for dinner even beforehand and then feel like a schoolgirl running out of the classroom freed from obligation. I usually try to go outside at this time of day, at least for twenty minutes even if it is freezing. Fresh air and walking help clear my head and often put the petty domestic dramas in perspective. <br /><br />Now if only there was a pub. . . <br /><br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-23782549923971586442013-01-13T19:00:00.001-08:002013-01-13T19:00:53.434-08:00New Year New chairs. . . <br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/01/13/2355.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/01/13/s_2355.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />New blanket forts. . . <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/01/13/2356.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/01/13/s_2356.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />New haircut . . . <br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/01/13/2357.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/01/13/s_2357.jpg' border='0' width='267' height='267' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />New IPad. . . <br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/01/13/2358.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/01/13/s_2358.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />I hope this blog app thing works. Here goes. Take that 2013!<br /><br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-74502706858253607882012-11-28T19:03:00.002-08:002012-11-28T19:03:59.530-08:00Novemberings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXaFk4fCwUjyDz2Aav2eS00bChYOnkpSUCLTUQ2oWYBgD1oWhqjYYQHfepO2iL9oMhuZvFxF2NuRezi0ZK_fMDLksMDJSC0x1PS3sHMMbTj9bWG72IQlqe2OeRDh-5XcyF45PAnVdo-Gya/s1600/IMG_2231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXaFk4fCwUjyDz2Aav2eS00bChYOnkpSUCLTUQ2oWYBgD1oWhqjYYQHfepO2iL9oMhuZvFxF2NuRezi0ZK_fMDLksMDJSC0x1PS3sHMMbTj9bWG72IQlqe2OeRDh-5XcyF45PAnVdo-Gya/s320/IMG_2231.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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School (unschool) days pass in a flurry here at home. We have been doing a good deal of math games and playing with our new abacus which I really love. I always hated math as a child but if you had given me an abacus when I was seven I may have loved it. I find something so soothing about running my fingers over the beads. . . . </div>
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Also we have been attending the Spanish mass at our parish a few time and really enjoying it. Partially because the language exposure is good for the children, and also I think because we feel so at home with Latin cultures. With my Italian I can pick up at least 50 percent of what the priest says and most of the responses are the same. Tonight we went for a full moon walk and looked at our little road all lit up by the moon and Jupiter which was right next to it. I feel like there is so much to experience, so much to learn and so little time to do it in. Angelica is good at reminding me to slow down and enjoy the process. Here is what she did with her math tiles the other day. She made this mosaic on our table. </div>
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And here she is reading on the couch in braids, wearing her crystal necklace. Zita and Julia are probably off playing one of their multiple fantasies together. There is one person though who has constantly been getting into trouble of late. This one likes to find her Papa's art supplies and decorate out walls and floors with her own little creations. I have to work hard to keep her out of trouble. Part of my solution has been to create a little montessori based corner for her. Here is Ronia, our maiden of mischeif, having her first haircut. <br />
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Looking forward to my favorite season! Advent will be with us soon. I can't wait for the candles, the quiet, the soft lights, reflection and quiet joy of expectation. I especially love the small feasts, St. Nicholas, Santa Lucia, Juan Diego and the Aztec Maiden, and all the cast of characters that visit our house in December. . . <div>
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Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-32840240198841229362012-11-14T18:10:00.000-08:002012-11-14T18:11:40.049-08:00PHOTO RECAP!!!!!!!!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Hatke autumn in pictures. . . </div>
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Celebrating Bilbo Baggins birthday with second breakfast. <br />
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Michaelmas dragon bread. . .<br />
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A fall walk, photo courtesy of Zita. . .<br />
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Fall is great clothes drying season. . . Italian drying racks now available in U.S. via amazon! <br />
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Pumpkin carving contest. Yes Ben wins EVERY year.<br />
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Ronia and I at Halloween as female Sherlock Holmes and little Miss Watson. </div>
<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-17025807291076523732012-10-01T18:04:00.000-07:002012-10-01T18:04:00.484-07:00On travel and change. . .<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's been a few weeks now since our return to the States and I hit the ground running hard to catch up with all the bits and pieces before diving into the fall activities.<br />
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Leaving your home for four months is something I recommend to all. One returns to ones things and the scales, so to speak, have fallen from one's eyes. I got rid of lots of nasty clothes and bits, but mostly clothes.<br />
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I feel like one change always bring more changes though. Its like when you break a glass and you know that three more will be broken before the week is out. And change is not bad. It is usually good, as it reminds us that this world is not permanent and we are supposed to be working on getting somewhere much better. Travel makes us realize that among other things. Here are a few observations that I brought back from my summer. <br />
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1. You really can live without 99,9 percent of your stuff and get by just fine. <br />
2. Most people dress, as a rule, way cooler or way lamer than you. But mostly the first. <br />
3. You just need ONE GOOD water bottle.<br />
4. There is a distinctly American way of wearing jeans. <br />
5. YOur children are capable of way more than you think. They can climb mountains, learn languages, eat weird foods, and sleep on train station benches. In fact, they will do all these things and they will do them better than you. <br />
6. The world is full of places where people wait. For trains, buses, a market, an airplane. a ticket, a coffee, a wedge of cheese. These places are like a free college education. Hang out in them and watch people. And sometimes. . . if they are not crazy, smile and talk to them. <br />
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There is, however nothing like travel to bring the zest back into routine and make one's routine a little more bold. Lots of little changes around here lately. <br />
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Back to doing table time and school work in the mornings. Instituted one decade of the rosary together, me and the girls every morning after breakfast and before we even get dressed. This is really helping to center us. <br />
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Zita wanted to cut bangs, so I gave her bangs again. She looks really cute. Ben's hair also has been cut. It is shorter but still long enough to be not an office haircut. He has new glasses too that I really like. <br />
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My current project is dreading my hair. I always wanted to have dreadlocks and when my old friend Jamie came for the weekend and we both discovered that we had been wanting to do this we became co-conspirators. The trick is to make it look artsy and cool and not like you have rats living in your hair. In the mornings I feel like it looks artsy. At night I feel like it is a rat's nest. For the time being scarves are becoming my new best friend. Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-53325969594816278502012-09-21T19:05:00.002-07:002012-09-21T19:10:25.405-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyJHYOl7kHoT0gT3xG533x6k6byAhsyCEnV8CGmYs1zrBP-N2gsua1jsF_zaF_vXpV4FR38hZNzp5wmF_I9Kdxgis3wgc7ymKFGHueH8hMS-RMPLtkqIebth6t2qC9zEetzFP4nu0_p4lL/s1600/IMG_0757.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyJHYOl7kHoT0gT3xG533x6k6byAhsyCEnV8CGmYs1zrBP-N2gsua1jsF_zaF_vXpV4FR38hZNzp5wmF_I9Kdxgis3wgc7ymKFGHueH8hMS-RMPLtkqIebth6t2qC9zEetzFP4nu0_p4lL/s320/IMG_0757.JPG" width="240" /></a>
Got back into my bread baking groove this week. It felt good and since I always scale back on bread baking in the hot summer months anyway my baking hiatus was really only slightly longer this year.<br />
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In Gravagna this summer there was a young couple who were married. In the weeks leading up to the wedding the groom restored the family outdoor oven of the bride's family. It hadn't been used in decades and what greater portent of abundance in a marriage than a forno ready for the baking of many loaves. Unfortunately we left before I had a chance to try some baking in said oven but next time you can bet that I will be bringing my starter with me and hoping for a chance.<br />
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I did however get the chance this summer to visit a real commercial forno down in Pontremoli. Here are baked the most divine apple pastries known to man and one day I was allowed in back to watch the process.<br />
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One of the girls who bakes at Forno Tarantola is one of the buffest chicks I have ever met. The image of her beating the tar out of a bunch of men in a mob fight with a baguette has entered my head before on seeing her.<br />
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One needs to be tough as a baker though, because on market day that little forno is one crowded joint. People yell their orders over each other to these ladies as they ring up the loaves, pastries, biscotti, torte, and testeroli. If only I could bring these fine bakers home to cook in my kitchen. . . .
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Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-6831901510162749232012-09-15T18:45:00.000-07:002012-09-15T18:48:48.692-07:00Finally . . . We are back in the states now, land of fast internet and bad cheese. I had many things that I wanted to post overseas but for want of a fast connection made the blogging quite a challenge. We had a wonderful summer and I would like to post of few of the highlights here. The girls came home having learned lots of Italian and having a summer full of adventures.
One of my outings in June took me to my sister's graduation in Florence. I had forgotten what a magical city it can be. The reception was at a beautiful old palazzo in the old city. The contessa who owned it allows the students to use it for their graduation ceremony.
At the reception I sort of started just wandering around taking photos of the place. I finally wandered into a room where a couple with a baby had gathered some food from the buffet and were eating. As I had Ronia with me and they were the only other people with a small child, we inevitably struck up a conversation. It turns out that they had no association with the school but were the Contessa's son and wife and grandson. Ronia had a lesson from the little conto for free on the pianoforte. I couldn't even imagine what it must be like to have total strangers have their graduation reception at your house and just grab your dinner from the reception buffet. . . . but I guess they get to live in a palazzo so who could complain?
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Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-51036823586694378802012-07-18T13:48:00.003-07:002012-07-18T13:49:41.257-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmz9hYBaRdWYX4qnm0JXHAOM8wY0v8nUUaMmMaas1efiFPLPGbclFdB7IEyzgT3A75605xumPS6EbTkcvF7AfUy6EOqDFf_6d9bMJ9xSa3mmgemkB6LvLK6NqLCBgU0f_UakeDLO8zaFOP/s1600/IMG_1092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmz9hYBaRdWYX4qnm0JXHAOM8wY0v8nUUaMmMaas1efiFPLPGbclFdB7IEyzgT3A75605xumPS6EbTkcvF7AfUy6EOqDFf_6d9bMJ9xSa3mmgemkB6LvLK6NqLCBgU0f_UakeDLO8zaFOP/s320/IMG_1092.JPG" /></a>
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Here are some pics from our most recent outing. We took the train about an hour to the town of Monterosso, one of the five villages known as Cinqueterre.
I love the ocean or as Zita calls it, the seaside. The meeting of two such different elements land, and water creates a wonderful energy and a sense of the unexpected. The last time we were at Monterosso, a week ago, the waters were still and placid. This time the ocean was more alive and the waves more powerful. I swam out to a barrier of rocks and there were some people there. The Italians really know how to swim in the ocean and it truly is an art. I grew up swimming mostly in lakes and swimming pools. Northern California coastal waters are notoriously cold, so I had little experience of sea bathing and am always a little nervous in the ocean when the waves ride high and there are rocks.
I noticed that the Italian couple next to me would wait for the high waves to pull out and then when they could see clearly they would jump off the rock with the next wave and then immediately swim a rapid stroke so as to not be pulled back and thrown against a rock as the wave pulled back. Thus clear of the rocks they would swim at a more leisurely pace.
Monterosso is a beautiful town and very placid. The free beach is just outside the town and although the town obviously services many tourists the shopkeepers were friendly and the prices affordable.
The girls spent the day swimming and collecting bits of sea glass on the shore. BEn and I took turns swimming out to the rocks and then back to shore.
What to eat? The sardines are really wonderful there. Oh and lemons too. Lots and lots of lemons.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-85824769829687397162012-07-11T12:46:00.001-07:002012-07-11T12:46:23.316-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Market Day. . . </div>
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Wednesday I wake up really early and catch the 7 o'clock bus down the mountain to do my shopping. How does one feed a family of six with no car and hauling one's groceries? The answer is my fabulous wheely cart I bought myself and also the generosity of neighbors. In the above photo is salad and squash and apricots and onions all courtesy of our neighbor's gardens. The cheese is from the bottega right here in Gravagna. </div>
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Anyway, today I had, added to my normal shopping agenda, going to confession. I woke up early and went over all my sins with the dictionary, always helpful preparation. Ben had told me that there was a bell you could ring at the Capuchin monastery right outside of Pontremoli and a friar would come down and here your confession. The monastery is up at the top of a hill and a road winds up to it. With my wheely bag jostling behind me I ascended the hill and rang the bell. </div>
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I expected an old friar to answer. Instead an middle aged woman came on the telecom, all efficiency and politeness, like a hotel clerk and told me to go wait in the church, a friar would be there shortly. I walked into the church and no sooner had I looked around than a friendly old Franciscan came in and, as if we were old friends meeting after many years, greeted me and had me sit in the pew with him for confession. </div>
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His words were simple. He treated me like I was a small child and he interrupted my confession several times to ask questions about me. It was like being with Christ. Afterward he showed me with great pride the display case they have with Padre Pio's habit, hair, and tear stained patten in it. We parted ways and I walked back down the hill feeling lighter in spirit. </div>
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There is a sort of arched retaining wall that runs alongside the road to the monastery and someone at some point planted roses in the arches. Now an invasive Asian plant crowds them out. Still the roses bloom. It occurred to me that in some respects the friars there are like those roses blooming happily amongst the weeds of post modern Europe. </div>
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As if to fulfill my metaphor several hours later outside of the discount store I saw my friar and another happily walking along the road with some friends. . . . </div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-67618687083135551392012-07-07T13:02:00.003-07:002012-07-07T13:02:52.097-07:00Hike to La Cisa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Oh here is a random picture of the walk I take to the botega in Gravagna. The house to the left is the house my father was born in. It is sadly no longer habitable. The house to the right belongs to my neighbor Carla. It was her mother in law's house but there was a fire and they moved out. Carla still uses the courtyard for her wood and her cats live in the burned up house. Just out of the picture to the right is a huge fig tree and a little stall that Carla keeps a sheep in that she won in a lottery. <br />
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Today was a pretty much perfect day. The baby slept in until I had had my coffee which always makes for a great beginning. Then my neighbor Carla, who is the most amazing cook, invited me over to watch her make her "sugo" which was a ragu that she makes with boar. After she made the sugo she just gave it to me because her husband is a notoriously picky eater and won't eat it. (How anybody could be married to that woman and turn their nose up at such fare is beyond me). Since dinner was taken care of and it was a beautiful breezy day I decided to pack the girls up and go for a hike up to the Passo della Cisa. The ascent up the mountain went well. There was a strong wind blowing down the mountain and the smell of pine trees mingling with the freshly made hay in the fields was invigorating. We even passed a barn with a cow sitting in the stall all by herself. <br />
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The chapel up at La Cissa is one of my favorite little spots. It is very gothic and also everything is scaled down in miniature. It almost feels like a dollhouse. I was very proud of the girls for walking the whole way up and down the mountain as it is no small walk. We started out at noon and didn't get back home until close to six and they are now all sleeping peacefully. More to come. . .<br />
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Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-31767617106786030232012-07-01T12:52:00.001-07:002012-07-01T12:53:11.910-07:00Gravagna<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I know, I know . Promises, empty promises. I have been too buy living the "vita della campagna" I suppose. <br />
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Well back to Gravagna. My little village lies up in a cluster of Apenine mountains near a historic mountain pass. The springs up here feed the Fiume Magra (the Thin River ) that runs down into the Val D'antenna to Pontremoli. To the southeast lies the heart of Tuscany with its villas and farms, vineyards and sunflowers. Due south is the Mediterranean sea. To the north, literally just over the mountain is Emiglia Romania and you are out of Tuscany. We are literally sitting at the northernmost tip of Tuscany's tiny finger,<br />
Coming from Pontremoli means a long twisting ride up the valley to the village of Molinello at which point you go off the small road onto a tiny one. Two little Italian cars barely fit abreast and often there is an intricate tango between two drivers who chance to meet going in opposite directions. The road curves back on itselve following the mountain all the way up until around the bend you go and you are in Gravagna. <br />
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Here you will find few of the historic Tuscan plants. There are few olive trees and grape vines and sunflowers. Instead there is an abundance of chestnut and hazelnut trees. The culture is a mountain one. Cheese, sheep, goats, mushrooms, and chestnuts are the stuff of life. If you pass Gravagna and make it all the way to the mountain pass (Passo della Cisa) you will even find alpine architecture reminiscent of Switzerland. <br />
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There are about 25-30 people who live in the village year round. In the summer the number swells to maybe 75 or so. Most of the people are old and retired on pensione. This does not mean they do not work, however. By eight in the morning almost everyone is running about caring for an animal or out in their garden, sweeping their terazzo or watering their flower pots. Which brings me to the photo. These are my cousin Louisa's flowers. Louisa never married or had children but lived her life caring for her parents as they aged. She is now getting close to seventy herself but she cares so lovingly for a wide variety of growing things. Her pot garden speaks of her patience and loving hand. <br />
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I think one of the things that is so important about gardening in pots this way is that the flowers become something that is touchable and within reach. Much more intimate and inviting that a flower bed floating off far away in an ocean of lawn. <br />
Hopefully less of an interlude next time. . . . Also any Gravagnot who read this please correct any errors in Geography and names if you notice them- :)Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-67322138526036373642012-06-05T03:43:00.004-07:002012-06-05T03:43:47.794-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have been trying to get ahold of a computer and a fast internet key for a while now so I am finally going to commence my series of posts about where we are and what we do here in Gravagna and also post a series of photos that hopefully capture the place. I can't promise to be super regular as my computer time is very limited right now so I am mostly using it for homeschooling. </div>
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Here is a photo of Pontremoli the city down the mountain from Gravagna. Here is where I do my shopping on market day. I catch a bus to go here early in the morning or get a ride down with a neighbor. It is a small city still very medieval, built on a long line and it has the remnants of a wall and castle. It sits in the middle of two rivers, the Magra and the Verde (the thin river and green rivers, respectively.) From here we will commence out journey to Gravagna which is one of the many tiny satellites of Pontremoli, but among the more remote ones. It is about seven miles or so up a winding road that runs along the river valley and then turns and climbs up the moutain. <br />
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So gotta make this quick. . . next time, Gravagna.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-74739065880336611122012-05-20T05:17:00.002-07:002012-05-20T05:17:18.071-07:00Well so much for quiet beginnings. We had an earthquake last night. I felt the house shake. Seeing as it is made of solid rock with walls a foot and a half thick, this was mildly unsettling. <br />
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It was the middle of the night so I lay there like an idiot with all the earthquake protocol that I learned in grade school in California running through my head. Would ducking under a table really be that helpful if several tons of rock and terra cotta tiles fell on my head? In California all the buildings are stick frame with cheap stucco, and shingle. . . . Meanwhile my husband has run outside and is yelling at me to bring the baby out while I am laying there comatose. Apparently we were going to let our other three children asleep in the other bedroom just fend for themselves. Which shows us why three people died in this earthquake. Because we like to think that when catastrophe strikes we are all preparedness and resourcefulness, but what about the earthquake that happens in the middle of the night? . . . or the fire that ignites the doll your four year old is holding before you have had your coffee? (yes that happened several years ago, too) <br />
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I remember watching a show about Pompeii with my dad as a little girl. They found that by pouring plaster into these holes at the dig sites they could see the pose of the bodies as they were buried in volcanic ash. I used to fantasize that I would have been clever and fast enough to get out the minute it became obvious that Mount Vesuvius was blowing her top. Now it is apparent to me I would have been yet another hole awaiting the plaster of some archeologist.<br />
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By the way you can see the grisly plaster casts <a href="http://www2.brevard.edu/reynoljh/italy/corpsecasts.htm">here</a><br />
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But on to more pleasant things, here is a photo, with more to come... <br />
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<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-35570347579276940752012-05-15T13:50:00.002-07:002012-05-15T13:50:35.103-07:00<br />
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We are all arrived safe on the other side of the Atlantic! Gravagna is full of peace and beauty both in its people and buildings. I am hoping to post some of my favorite spots here. It is still cold here in the mountains and we are still lighting the wood stove in the evenings.<br />
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Little has changed here in the village. The silence is broken by sheep bells, church bells and the occasional car honking around a corner on the steep mountain road. People have been bringing us swiss chard by the armful. Carla, my neighbor had made us a wonderful broth when we got in. What generosity. Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-85553728586939139682012-05-04T19:15:00.001-07:002012-05-04T19:15:18.374-07:00A day with my girlsBen recently went on a buisness trip to Chicago. Normally we call in favors for the ride to the airport but this time I wanted to drop him off and take the metro in with the girls to the city for the day. <br />
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Many of my best childhood memories are of my mom waking us up really early, bundling us up because San Francisco is COLD, and taking us to art museums, or the pier, or a ballet at the Opera house. These were times when my mother, who was normally really strict, would indulge us. She might buy us an ice cream, a ride on a merry-go-round, do something a little extra that was normally "too expensive."<br />
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As a homeschooling mother it is easy to feel like you not only have to be the mother but the teacher too. This makes for being the rule and schoolwork enforcer more often than my sanguine side would like. So I have really been wanting to take the girls to D.C., just me and my girls for the day.<br />
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The catch 22 is the thought of riding the metro and braving lines alone with four children has always made me wimp out. What if Zita clings to me like some subtropical vine while Angelica is begging me for some impossible favor, meanwhile the baby wants to nurse and Julia had is melting down over her buttons? The people would shake their heads and mutter to themselves in a pitying sort of way or worse yet drop the oh-so-obvious "My, you have your hands full! " which I always feel is a bit like yelling " Wow, you must be busy!" to a group of men moving a grand piano out of midtown manhattan flat. <br />
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But this time, I threw discretion to the wind and decided to go ahead and go. . . and the girls were fabulous. The past year has been an awkward sort of shifting changing year. It was a mini-adolescence for our family. The birth of our fourth daughter forced us to grow and adapt in ways we did not know we could.. Its not always perfect and sometimes the kids whine and I yell and it doesn't look or sound great but we all make this big (by modern standards) group of people living under one roof work. I learned a little about time management and planning and most of all that the greatest resource that we have is one another. <br />
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Anyway it is hard to see progress sometimes in these matters when you are at home doing my normal juggling routine of schooling, housework, small scale farming, artist aide, etc. Our day in the city really helped me to see how far the girls have come, how far we all have come this past year. At one point we went to the sculpture garden I decided to go order a couple eclairs and a cappuccino from the little cafe. The line was really long and Ronia who had been really patient in the backpack was simply dying to get out and stretch her little walking legs. I could tell I wasn't going to make it to the end of the line. I signaled to Angelica to come and asked her if she thought she could order for us. I gave her the cash and I went out and sat in the shade, just outside. Zita offered to chase Ronia for me and keep her from falling into the bushes. Julia jumped on my lap and we cuddled in the afternoon sunshine. <br />
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As I sat there I saw a really pregnant British lady with her two year old who was melting down try to go into the cafe and then reconsider and leave. Now I have been there and I remember those mothers with older kids of large families saying in what I thought was a snarky sort of way. " Just wait, it gets easier when they are older and you have helpers." <br />
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And that day as I sat there in the beautiful spring sunshine, while my nine year old was ordering a cappucino and my seven year old chased my toddler around for me, while I cuddled with my pre-schooler, I realized that those mothers were right. <br />
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I bought my daughters not only chocolate eclairs but huge servings of ice cream too.<br />
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Oh and the fountain by the sculpture gardens is simply stunning and has ducks. <br />
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Thumbs up for a great day. <br />
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<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-814742055874086496.post-89154799614799674122012-04-23T04:25:00.000-07:002012-04-23T05:17:53.109-07:00Occupy your kitchen.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well, once again I had a great idea for a slogan and I decided to not do anything about it and someone beat me to the chase. <br />
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Right now there are huge May first Occupy rallies planned across the country. So much of the Occupy movement has directed anger and blame at the banks, particularly the big ones that were bailed out by the government. But it still seems like only a very small minority of these protests are directed at what I view to be an equally evil villain, the food coroporations, in particular the folks at Monsanto. I had the phrase "occupy your kitchen" running through my head for some time as a means of expressing this and it looks like someone from the Huffington post had already done an article about it <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kurt-friese/occupy-your-kitchen_b_1062667.html">here</a>. <br />
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In fact it seems like the most radical thing we can do is cook our own food with locally sourced ingredients. . . but cooking is the problem. Many people want to buy local but when you start to live this way you realize the world is not made of boneless skinless chicken breasts and Campbell's soup. There is an art to cooking each part of an animal. A shank is different from a shoulder. All this knowledge has become a sort of unattainable alchemy to the modern individual and it does require a totally different approach to food, community, and convenience. I laugh that one of the cheapest, easiest parts of my food routine that I call my "fast food" is the thing that takes the longest to make. My bread is 24 hours start to finish, but once made it is truly fast food. But to cook this way one has to constantly be thinking of the future and planning. <br />
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I think we would be amazed at what a school of virtue is found in the kitchen. Patience, planning, reverence, attention to detail. All these are waiting for you in a pot of stock. <br />
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So what we really need right now are skill sharing seminars, cooking classes, maybe even real food tastings on the street to get people's interest. I hope we see these things blossom out of a movement toward less government subsidized eating. <br />
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On a total sidetrack however, my friend Jamie recently made a point about how so many people find the Eucharist to be such a crazy Catholic teaching but that if we can get people to wax poetic, gush and become ecstatic over real bread (not wonderbread) than maybe, just maybe, it will seem less crazy that yes, I truly worship something that looks, smells, feels, and tastes just like bread. <br />
<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05934485765850100118noreply@blogger.com5